


Ruined

by robin_writes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Bakery, Cas is an english teacher, Dean Deserves to be Happy, Dean bakes, Dean is seventeen, Gabe owns a dessert parlour, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, I'm just fucking mad at John, John is an abusive bastard, M/M, Sam is thirteen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-04 14:03:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14594601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robin_writes/pseuds/robin_writes
Summary: Cas is an english professor at the school Dean and Sam are currently attending. Dean’s gay awakening. John almost kills Dean. And Dean cuts all ties to the abusive dick. Dean and Sam move in with Cas.





	1. John's a Dick

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully I'll upload new chapters fairly regularly, but I'm sitting my A-Level exams in the next month. So no promises. But comments encourage more chapters ;)

The Impala rolled up to a stop in the gravelly parking lot of the grimy motel. The engine cut off, stirring Dean out of his nap. He’d been treading the line between sleep and waking since they left Arizona a few hours before. John stepped out of the car as quietly as he could, trying not to wake Sammy. Dean could sense Sam would be going through a growth spurt pretty soon because he was tired all the time and when he was awake, he wouldn’t stop eating. And there was the fact that he was tiny. Dean often teased Sam on how small he was, laughing when people would mistake him for a younger boy.

John disappeared off to get them a room. Hopefully they would be able to stay longer than a few days. Whenever they passed through Vegas they would stay a little longer so that John and Dean could rake in some cash at the casinos to tide them over for a while. They weren’t exactly in Las Vegas, but a small-ish town about an hour from the strip. 

John came back and knocked on the window next to Dean’s head. Dean jerked away, his hand moving straight to his belt loop where a small, inconspicuous, silver knife was hanging. But realising it was just his dad, Dean opened the door. “Room seven.” John whispered, and Dean looked over to their room. John had anticipated the bags they would have to carry in, so he had already unlocked and pushed the door open. He headed straight for the trunk to grab their duffel bags. While Dean got out of the car and opened the back door on his side. 

Sam was sleeping, snoring lightly and Dean smiled. He bent down and pulled Sammy into his arms, pausing when Sam shuffled slightly. And then he closed the car door behind them, carrying Sam into the motel room. Dean laid him down on the large bed the furthest from the door. And John brought the rest of the bags in. It perfectly demonstrated their loyalties; Dean to Sam, and John to hunting. 

Before Dean could go to sleep, though, he had work to do. John tossed him a bag of salt, and Dean began to salt the window ledges and the door while John drew sigils and signs in pen on the walls. It was actually one of Dean’s pens from before they were hunters. Mary had insisted that they buy easy to wash off pens because Dean had a habit of drawing on walls. And John kept them. Not out of sentimentality, but out of use. It was way easier to take a wet tissue to the wall at the end of their hunt than to repaint the motel walls.

And when Dean was finished, he crashed next to Sam. There was an unspoken rule between the three; John would get a bed and the boys would have to fight over the other, with the loser taking the couch. (If the motel had one. It was more often it didn’t.) But Dean was too tired and too cranky to take the couch, and Sam was small. So he shoved his thirteen year old brother over and relaxed into the hard mattress. He was out in no time.

Dean woke up to rustling paper. And the distinct smell of bad coffee. Sam was awake and thrusting a paper cup of coffee in front of his face. He smiled at Sam and accepted it. John was hunched over on his own bed, surrounded by paper. The hunt had begun then. Dean swallowed the hot coffee, wincing as it burned his throat. 

But his bad mood only got worse when John turned to notice he was awake. “Here.” He said without an explanation, throwing a few papers at Dean. He read them over. 

The papers weren’t about the hunt, they were school transfer papers. Two sets. Dean started to get mad. If he was at school, he couldn’t hunt. “Fill them out.” John elaborated, not looking up, when Dean didn’t move for a pen.  
“What’s the hunt?” Dean asked cautiously.  
“Don’t know yet.” John said.  
“If you don’t know yet, you don’t know if you’ll need me. I can be helpful.” Dean begged. He hated school. The only good thing was the universal hour for lunch. “And what if the hunt turns out to be nothing? Or really easy? We’d be in school a couple of days before you pulled us out.” He tried desperately to reason, but he wasn’t seeing any of the markers in his dad’s face that told him he was successful.  
“Fill out the damn papers.” John said. And that was that. There wasn’t going to be any more arguing or reasoning. He was bull-headed and Dean was just going to have to accept that. Sam passed Dean a pen and Dean began to fill in the forms in silence, his jaw clenched the whole time.

“Take the Impala. Get something to eat. And then take the forms to the office at the school. They’ll probably let you start tomorrow.” John nodded to the car keys sitting on top of a credit card. “Pick up whatever you need.” No one could say John Winchester didn’t get to the point. “And take Sam.” He said, like his son was an afterthought. Dean’s jaw clenched harder.

He rifled through his duffel, pulling out clothes and taking them into the bathroom to change. When Dean came out, Sam rushed in after him. And a few minutes later, they were on the road. Windows down, blaring Warrant’s ‘Cherry Pie’. Sam was sitting next to him, smile wide. When Dean looked in the mirror, he saw that he was smiling too. “You want breakfast or dessert?” Dean asked.  
“Is that really a question?”  
“Right. Dessert.” Dean’s smile grew, if that was even possible, and he pulled into a space outside an old style fifties milkshake and dessert parlour. It was called ‘Gabe’s Place’. And as soon as they stepped in through the doors, Dean could feel his teeth hurt with the sweetness.

Sam ran over to the display case and immediately listed six things he wanted. There was a cute red haired girl behind the counter, and she kept looking over at Dean. ‘Anna’ her name tag said. “Pick your two favourite and we’ll share.” Dean told his younger brother, who promptly got a really excited look on his face.

Dean prowled over to the register where Anna was standing. “Sammy, what do you want?” He turned his head to ask Sam.  
“A slice of the pecan pie and a Gabe’s special.” Sam said.  
“So, Anna,” Dean moved his head closer to her, like he was about to whisper a secret. “do you think you can get those for us?”  
“…Sure.” She looked flustered, and stepped up to the display case, cutting some of the pie. The Gabe’s special, it turned out, was a sugary monstrosity. It was an ice cream sundae with about every type of chocolate and candy you could think of, topped with a large squirt of whipped cream, and a twizzler stuck out of the top. Dean paid with the fraudulent credit card and took the desserts to sit at a booth in the corner.   
“So, pie?” He asked Sam.  
“You don’t have sole ownership over pie, Dean.”  
“Okay.” Dean smirked and stole the twizzler from the sundae. Sam grumbled but let him take it. 

After they split the desserts, Dean drove them to the school. It sounded like everyone was in class, which Dean was eternally grateful for. He really didn’t want to have to deal with curious teenagers, probing him about who he was and why he was transferring so late.

The office was pretty easy to find, he spoke to the woman at the desk and she informed him that he and Sam could start tomorrow. She told him the start and finish times, and passed over a printed map of all the classrooms. And then told him and Sam to come back to her at 8.45 the next morning so she could give them timetables. Dean thanked her, and Sam smiled and then they left. Heading straight for the biggest store they could find.

In a small town like this, they only had one Wal-Mart. But it was good enough. So Dean followed Sam through the aisles with a basket. “Only what we need, Sammy.” Dean said when Sam came up to an aisle of Star Wars merchandise and his eyes went wide.  
“That includes stationary though.” Sam said, throwing a packaged Star Wars pen and pencil set into the basket.

Their dad was slowly giving Sam more hunting privileges, and Dean kept on forgetting that he was only thirteen. Still a kid. So he indulged Sam. And if John saw the Star Wars merch, Dean would take the heat for the smile it put on his kid-brother’s face.

They kept walking, throwing some notebooks in and pens for Dean. And then Dean stopped. Like physics didn’t exist and momentum wasn’t a thing. Sam almost walked into him, not paying attention. He followed his brother’s gaze until it landed on a guy.

The guy in question was older than Dean. The first thing Dean noticed was the black… blacker than black sex hair he had. It was long and untamed, but gravity defying. It stuck up in all directions. Dean’s gaze dragged devastatingly slowly down the guy’s body. And Dean exhaled loudly when the guy opened his eyes. They were piercing blue. There was nothing to compare them to. And his lips were chapped and blotched like he had been furiously making out with someone a few moments before. Or bit his lips a lot, but Dean preferred the kissing option. He was wearing a thin, stonewashed AC/DC shirt that Dean almost swore at. And his jeans were loose and fraying. He looked really good. So good it had Dean salivating.

Until Sam started making fake-vomiting sounds. “Shut up.” Dean blushed, and started walking to the self-checkout. Sam tailed him, and eventually they were ready to go back to the motel. Not that either of them wanted to. But they didn’t have anything else to do, they would borrow any textbooks from the school library. So Dean drove at snail’s pace back to where they were staying.

John was sitting where they’d left him, but he was yelling at someone on the phone. Dean placed the Impala’s keys quietly on the end of John’s bed, trying not to disturb him and pulled out a worn backpack from his duffel. Sam did the same. They put their new stationary into their backpacks. And then they sat back on the bed, not turning on the TV. Dean knew if they did, John would get mad. So they sat in silence. For fifty-two minutes. Until John hung up the phone. And then Dean scrambled to grab the remote, turning the TV on. But quietly. John was still working.

They ended up watching some reality show about… well, who really knows what it’s about? Until the room fell dark. And Sam started to yawn. Their dad left the room and came back with mildly warm burritos which the boys thanked him for, ate and then decided to go to sleep. Dean hated to feel useless, but he couldn’t do anything if his dad didn’t want him helping. So he might as well get some sleep. He set his phone alarm for eight and then drifted off to sleep. 

John was gone when Dean’s alarm rang out. He shut it off, shaking Sam. And ushering him towards the shower first. John didn’t leave a note, or the Impala Dean realised. Now he was furious. How exactly did John think they were getting to school if it was too far to walk and the bus didn’t stop at any sleazy motels? Sam returned from the shower, and Dean took his turn. He was mad. Beyond mad. It was like John had forgotten he had a responsibility towards his sons. Because that’s what they were. His sons. Not pets. Not hunters. Not extra mouths to feed and clothe. Dean and Sam were John’s sons. 

There was a honk from outside as Dean pulled a shirt on. Sam went over to the windows. “It’s dad.” He said, and swung his backpack over his shoulder. Dean did the same, but less enthusiastically. They locked up the motel room and got into the Impala. John didn’t say anything as he drove. Dean was still fuming, but to a lesser degree. Sam picked up on the tension, but desperately didn’t want to make it worse, so he didn’t say anything.

Dean got out before the car stopped moving. Their dad moved, stretching his arm around Dean’s now empty seat like he was going to say something, but thought better of it, and drove off once Sam had gotten out. Dean huffed and then led Sam back to the office.

The woman waved at them, passing over their timetables and directing Sam and then Dean to their homerooms. “See you at lunch Sammy.” Dean said, messing with Sam’s hair before he walked off in one direction, Sam in the other.

Homeroom was dull. Dean didn’t have to introduce himself, thank God. And he slipped into a spare desk, flicking his cell phone on vibrate, just in case something happened to Sam. If something happened to John, screw him, Dean was still mad. But he refused to turn his phone off in case something happened to Sammy. 

Dean’s first period was English. It turned out he had been signed up for a bunch of subjects he didn’t want, but didn’t really have a choice in. It was whatever was available. And English was available.

He kept his head down as he walked into the room, most of the other kids were talking or rather, yelling, at each other when he did. Dean dropped into a seat three rows back, and pulled out his paper.

His mouth went dry instantly when he saw the English teacher. It was sexy AC/DC guy from yesterday. But this time, he looked older than he did before, and he was wearing a suit vest over a white shirt and black pants. No suit jacket. And his sleeves were rolled up haphazardly. His hair was just as messy, and Dean felt a stir in his pants. But he ignored it because it was his freaking English teacher. It turned out ‘Mr Novak’ had a much deeper voice than Dean was prepared for, and it shot straight into Dean’s dick.

But he got through the lesson. Even if he couldn’t exactly remember what the lesson was about. Because he was distracted by wanting to bone his teacher.

It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened. But it was the first guy. And Dean was surprised he even swung that way. So far, in his seventeen years, he’d been ‘girls, girls, girls… women’ but now it was ‘girls, girls, girls… women… hot English teacher?’ And when Mr Novak called for him to stay behind after class, he barely contained his groan. 

Once the bell rang, almost everyone was gone. There were a few stragglers, asking for an extension on an essay. But when Dean was the last one, Mr Novak turned his piercing blue eyes on him. Dean licked his lips subconsciously. “Mr Winchester?”  
“Dean.” He said.  
“Dean. I wanted to give you a list of books you’ll need for this semester. These two we have already read,” He pointed to the two books written in black pen. “this one we are currently studying,” He pointed to the red penned one. “these two we will get to,” The green penned one. “and this is the name of the textbook we are using.” In blue. “All of these are available in the library, but you’d best start with the textbook and Hamlet. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Hamlet was, apparently, what they were studying. Not that Dean had paid any attention.   
“Sure. Thanks.” Dean took the list, shoving it into his pocket, and then got out of the room as fast as he could. He had a few minutes before his next lesson, so he went to the bathroom to splash some cold water over his face and get his mind out of the gutter. To stop thinking about being bent over Mr Novak’s desk and being fucked within an inch of his life.

The rest of the day was chilled out. He met Sam for lunch and handed over a few dollars for the kid to get himself some food. He should’ve remembered to do that this morning, but he was pretty distracted. 

At four, the final bell rung signalling the end of the day. Dean had managed to go to the library and take out all the books he and Sam needed, before meeting Sam on the stoop outside the English building. Sam’s last class was English. Dean definitely wasn’t stalking Mr Novak.

They waited ten minutes, and then twenty… forty… and finally an hour had passed and it didn’t look like John was going to pick them up. The school was completely empty by now. The only cars in the carpark were from teachers, and a loud silence fell over the campus. “C’mon Sammy. We’ll stop off at Gabe’s Place for a break in the middle of the walk. It won’t be too bad.” Sam looked displeased at best.

They began walking, Dean carrying all of Sam’s books in his own bag because Sam kept complaining. Gabe’s Place appeared just as Dean was drooping. The sugar high would be a nice reprieve. “Pick a pie.” Dean called as Sam rushed over to the display case again. He laughed. He would share a slice with Sam so they didn’t ruin their dinner, it was almost six o’clock, but they both needed something to get them to dinner.

This time, a man was at the register. He had long hair, and a childish air around him despite his age. His name tag read ‘Gabriel’. “You Gabe?” Dean asked.  
“Yes-sir-ee.” He said smiling, and Dean realised he was sneaking skittles from a pocket in his apron into his mouth.  
“If you’re the boss, why’re you hiding the candy?”  
“Because I’m the boss.” Gabe’s smile turned into a smirk. “I set the standard. Don’t want my employees eating candy the whole time.” Dean laughed. A grumble could be heard from the kitchen, and a disgruntled man in an apron stepped into sight. Dean’s breath hitched when he saw it was Mr Novak.  
“The only employees you have are your family because no one else will work for you, hypocrite.” Mr Novak said, and he looked up. His eyes caught Dean’s and he stilled. Gabe didn’t realise anything was amiss and so kept talking.  
“Maybe so, but at least I enjoy my job.” Gabe said. Mr Novak suddenly shifted gears and walked to stand next to Gabe.  
“So Dean, what can I get for you?” He asked, staring into Dean’s eyes like they were having an impromptu staring contest.  
“Uhh…” Dean managed to peel his eyes away to look for Sam. “Sam, what do you want?” He asked like the day before.  
“Cherry pie.” Sam answered and left to sit in a booth.  
“A slice of cherry pie then.” Dean said to Mr Novak.  
“Just one?” He asked.  
“We’re gonna share.” Dean explained.  
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to try the Boston cream pie too?” Mr Novak said lowly, sending shivers down Dean’s spine.  
“Sam’ll be up all night if I let him have a whole slice to himself.”  
“Sure.” Mr Novak nodded and cut him a slice, dropping two forks onto the plate.   
“Thanks.” Dean swiped the credit card he didn’t return to John, and then went to sit with Sam. He just about made out the conversation between Gabe and Mr Novak;  
“Dean huh?” He could practically hear the smirk in Gabe’s words.  
“He’s a new student.”  
“Okay.” Gabe didn’t sound convinced. Dean’s cheeks heated up and he only managed to eat a third of the pie before pushing it over to Sam. All he could think of was how good the Boston cream pie could’ve been. Sam’s eyes widened before he accepted Dean’s generosity and ate the rest of the pie.

It gave them just enough energy to get back to the motel. John started yelling before they even got through the door. “It’s seven o’clock. Where the hell have you two been?” Dean stood stock still, used to John lashing out so he knew it was the best way not to provoke him more. But Sam rarely saw the mean side of their father and rushed into the room, dropping his bag at the foot of the brothers’ shared bed.  
“It’s a two hour walk from the school.” Dean explained. “You didn’t pick us up. We waited for an hour. But then we walked.” It was better to get it over with now so John might calm down sooner.  
“You didn’t tell me what time to pick you up.” Malice laced John’s voice. And then Dean could smell it. The booze. And he knew this time would be bad.  
“Sorry.” Dean ducked his head, looking at the ground. John clapped his hand on Dean’s shoulder and Dean flinched away. He dragged his son inside, slamming the door shut behind them. And Dean could hear Sammy scampering into the bathroom. Good. He shouldn’t have to see this.

John manhandled Dean so he was kneeling and his front was pushed up against the end of the bed. John pulled Dean’s shirt up, revealing his back, scarred up beyond belief. And then he got to work punishing his son; for Mary’s death, for disobeying, for existing. Dean’s back was cut open once again with the leather from John’s belt and the metal that connected the two ends. But he knew better than to scream or beg for it to stop. He knew that John would make it worse or go on for longer if he screamed. So he pressed his face into the mattress and bit his tongue. He felt every lash. It hurt and then stung and then the pain dulled. But then John would hit him again. And again and again. Dean took every lash. Suffered through the pain. Because it was better him than Sam.

It was soon over, not soon enough really, but not as awful as Dean expected. He got up, steadying himself. But it wasn’t over.

John attacked him as soon as he saw Mary’s green eyes. Stupid idiot. Dean forgot to close his eyes after. But he was too concerned with staying conscious. John punched and clawed at Dean. At his face. At his abdomen. At his neck. Dean crashing to the floor. He coughed loudly as the wind was knocked out of him. He took every punch, not fighting back. But John wouldn’t snap out of it. His hands were around Dean’s neck and he was pressing hard.

Dean clawed at his father’s hands, gasping for air. The pressure behind his eyes building. But John just wouldn’t let go. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. The pain came from his lungs, not his throat. Sure the weight was uncomfortable, but his lungs were screaming at him to breathe. To just take a breath. But John was bigger and stronger and possibly more determined. 

And then there was this euphoria. Dean’s mouth upturned. He stopped fighting, arms fell to his sides. He stopped wriggling. And he felt happy, at peace, calm.

But it was snatched just as quickly as it appeared. The weight around his neck dissipated and Dean laid there, still unable to catch his breath. And then there was pressure on his chest. It hurt, but it went away. And then it hurt again. Dean realised what it was; CPR. John was trying to revive him. Bastard. Dean wanted to yell at him to get away. That if he wanted to kill his son to actually let him die.

And then he could move his arms. He swatted his dad as hard as he could, gasping sporadically. John crossed the room, realising that the last thing Dean wanted was his help. 

Dean wheezed, and then finally caught his breath. He glared daggers at his father, who refused to look at him. And then he got up, slowly. Almost falling twice. Knocked on the bathroom door. Was confronted by a sobbing Sam. Grabbed the Impala keys and both his and Sam’s duffels. Gesturing for Sam to grab their backpacks and then he led them to the Impala. John let them go.

In the car, Dean started the engine and then realised what day it was. November second. Oh. 

Oh.

Dean drove to the only place he could think of; Gabe’s Place. The light was still on, and he could see Gabe and Mr Novak sitting at a table with a stack of paper in front of them. Anna was in the background. Dean pulled the Impala up and Sam jumped out. Dean was less confident now he was here, but Sam was banging on the glass door like hell was at his heels. And maybe it was.

Mr Novak stood first, unlocking the door and encircling a still sobbing Sam. Dean realised Sam had been crying on the whole drive over. “What happened?” Mr Novak asked Dean, and then he realised. Dean hadn’t even managed to get his shirt back on before running out the door. “Who did this?” But Dean shook his head. Mr Novak looked down at Sam who was hiccoughing. “Sam?”  
“D…Da…Dad did.” Sam said. And then Dean passed out.

He was glad he held out this long. It could’ve been so much worse if he had fainted while he was driving.

His head was being pulled into a lap and Sam was being led into the kitchen. Apparently by Anna and Gabe. Because when Dean managed to open up his eyes, it was only him and his ridiculously hot English teacher. Dean tried to say something, but his throat sounded horrible. “Stop. Don’t talk.” Mr Novak said. “I am going to assess your injuries now Dean. Will you allow me to touch you?” He asked. Dean nodded. Mr Novak stared intensely at Dean’s body. And Dean realised he probably couldn’t see the worst of it because the bruises wouldn’t form for a few more hours. So he took Mr Novak’s hand, and looked at him, trying to communicate. And then Dean used his English teacher’s hand to guide him through what happened. 

First Dean pointed to his belt and his back. And then he closed and opened his eyes wide, making a point. Mr Novak nodded. And then he gripped his teacher’s fist, pretending to punch his eye, his jaw, the side of his head, his abdomen a few times. And then Dean softly grabbed Mr Novak’s other hand too, and guided him into hovering just over Dean’s neck. So it looked like he was being choked. For a long time. And then as Mr Novak was about to pull his hands away, Dean gripped them and imitated doing chest compressions. And finally he dropped the hands, feeling awkward now he had stopped moving.

Mr Novak didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Dean could see him trying to process. The flicker of anger and pain before it was covered up with an emotionless mask.

And then he just pulled Dean closer to him. Like he was trying to protect Dean from the world. “Sleep. You and Sam can stay here tonight.” He said. Dean raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘In a freaking dessert shop?’ “Gabriel lives upstairs. He has a spare room. Sleep now. You’re safe.” Dean figured he could close his eyes, just for a minute. Wait till his voice came back, and then tell them to put Sammy in the spare room. He could sleep in the Impala.

But when he woke up, Dean wasn’t lying on the floor of a dessert parlour anymore, he was lying in a bed. A fairly small bed. With a limpet clinging to him.

Sam was clutched tightly to him, but only to his shoulder and arm. The kid obviously didn’t want to hurt him. Dean smiled, and then he took the time to look around at where he was.

It was a guest bedroom. And two green duffel bags were perched on an armchair, his and Sam’s duffel bags. And their two backpacks were on the ground leaning up against the chair. Dean smiled again, looking over at the alarm clock. It was almost eight. 

He waited a few minutes and then shook Sammy awake. It took a moment, but then Sam looked at him with wide, tearful eyes. “School.” Dean croaked out.   
“No. I can’t leave you here alone.” Sam shook his head violently.  
“School.” Dean reiterated. It wasn’t easier to say the second time. He swallowed thickly. “Don… Don’t argu- S-mmy.” He managed before his throat was killing him. Sam nodded and then got up.

Hearing the movement in the guest room, Mr Novak came in to see how Dean was. “How’re you feeling Dean?” He asked as Sam ventured out of the room to find Gabe, probably to ask about a shower.  
“Hell.” Dean said. He paused and then poked Mr Novak in the chest. “Name?”  
“My name?” Dean nodded. “Mr Novak.” Dean shook his head and then pointed at himself.  
“Dea-. Name?”  
“Castiel.” He said and Dean appreciated it.  
“Cas-el. Cas-iel.” He struggled with forming the vibrations.  
“Cas is fine.” Castiel said seeing Dean’s effort.  
“Sam school.” Dean said with the most serious expression he’d ever seen on a teenager’s face before.  
“I will take Sam to school with me.” This seemed to make Dean happy because he sighed and then flopped back down on the bed. “Gabriel isn’t awake yet. He doesn’t usually wake up until ten because he works from two until after closing. But he’ll be here if you need anything. And I’ll bring Sam back around four thirty.”  
“Thank… you Cas.” Dean managed.  
“You’re welcome Dean.” Cas stood and left the bedroom. 

Dean swiftly fell back to sleep, if Gabe was going to be asleep until ten, so was Dean. He’d earned it with the beating he took. Sam came in to pick up his backpack and say goodbye, which Dean was moderately awake for, but he went back to sleep once he heard the door close.

He was having a nightmare. He knew it was a nightmare. But he couldn’t seem to wake up from it. It was the worst thing he’d seen in years. But Dean couldn’t shake it. John’s hands were pressed around Sammy’s throat and this time he didn’t do CPR. Dean screamed out for his baby brother. His throat tearing and bleeding. Someone was shaking him. 

Dean opened his eyes and then remembered, he quickly shut them. But those hands on his shoulders weren’t the large calloused hands of his father. They were smaller and a lot softer. Dean risked opening his eyes. Gabe was hovering over him. “Nigh-mare.” Dean said in explanation.  
“Yeah I got that. You woke me up before ten. That’s almost impossible.”  
“S-rry.” He said, his eyes were like magnets to the floor.  
“Hey, no. Don’t be like that. Dean look at me.” Gabe waited until Dean’s eyes were on his. “You don’t have to apologise for something you can’t help.”  
“Sor-.” He stopped and then nodded.  
“You want some food?” Gabe asked. Dean nodded. He became aware that the last thing he had eaten was the third of a slice of cherry pie downstairs yesterday evening. “C’mon.” Dean followed Gabe around the apartment to the kitchen. “Cassie was desperate to take you to the hospital last night, Anna to a lesser extent. But I figured you wouldn’t want that. Waking up to people poking at you. Being touched is probably the last thing you want, right?” Dean nodded, and Gabe let out a breath like he still wasn’t sure he did the right thing. “And they would’ve called the cops without telling you. I thought you should want to call the cops, not have them forced upon you. It’s your dad. I get it. I can’t say I like it. But I get it. I think the worst thing right now would be doctors and police asking questions.” Dean nodded again. “We can go now if you want.” Dean shook his head violently. “Alright. But if you faint again, I’m not asking.” Gabe opened up one of the kitchen cupboard, pulling a box of Lucky Charms out, pouring himself a bowl. “What would you like Dean-o?” He moved to reveal an extensive collection of cereal. Dean’s eyes fell on a box of Cheerios and he pulled the box out. Gabe grabbed a second bowl, sliding it in front of Dean. Dean poured out the cereal, and then waited for Gabe to be finished with the milk, passing it over to Dean.

They both sat down at the table in the kitchen. There was a stack of books that looked mysteriously like the books Cas assigned Dean the day before. Dean eyed them. Gabe chuckled and then said “Cassie left them for you. Said if you got bored it would be a better use of your time than watching TV.” Gabe pushed the pile of books closer to Dean. “Oh, uh. He also left a salve to heal your back. I can help you put it on later.” Dean nodded and went back to eating.

Later turned out to be once they had finished eating, Gabe arguing that he would be mauled by Cas if Dean didn’t have the salve on before lunch. Apparently Cas would be coming back to check on him during lunch. Gabe retrieved the pot of mystery salve. “Swing your legs around the chair.” He said, and Dean moved so he was baring his back to Gabe. No one had put a shirt on him and he doubted he could put one on with the salve so he gave up, he would be shirtless for a few more days. Its not like it made anyone but him uncomfortable. Sam was his brother, and Cas and Gabe were adults. Well, as much as candy eating, dessert parlour owning guys could be adults.

When Gabe pressed his fingers softly to the cuts on Dean’s back, Dean winced. He thought of what John would be doing now. Was he looking for them? Was he looking for the Impala? Or was he giving Dean time to cool off until he eventually slunk back to the sleazy motel? He wondered what John was hunting. And then he came to the conclusion that he didn’t actually care. The strangling had been the last straw. John often used his belt to Dean’s back, sometimes hit him if Dean did something stupid like opening his eyes afterwards, but Dean almost died. And if he wasn’t there, would John go after Sammy? No. Dean wouldn’t let him.

Gabe didn’t take too long. It was painful at first, but then it felt really good, like rubbing aloe on a burn. Cool and like it was sucking the pain out. “Thanks.” Dean croaked and stood up.  
“Sure thing.” Gabe washed his hands. Dean was planning on going back to his room, but stopped when he saw the pile of books Cas left him. And he took them with him. 

He grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste, heading into the bathroom. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and dropped his things, shocked. He felt like crap, but he looked way way worse. He had a blackening eye surrounding bloodshot eyes and a purple jaw, a few vaguely fist shape blue splotches on his stomach. But his neck. That looked fucked up to the nth degree.

The blue and purple bruises covered his entire neck, showing just how big John’s hands were. He wanted to be sick. Dean ended up dry retching over the sink. And there were faint red marks over his chest where John did the CPR. He could only imagine how bad his back was.

Dean bent down and picked up his toothbrush and paste and cleaned his teeth. He washed his face gently and then headed to his room. It wasn’t like he could take a shower now. Maybe he would grab one before they had to put on the next coat of salve, whenever that would be.

He changed his boxers and swapped his jeans for a pair of sweatpants. And he sat reading for a while. First Hamlet because it looked fairly small and it was at the top of the priority list. It was pretty good. It had ghosts and murder and revenge. Dean would’ve liked it to include sex, but he figured it was better it didn’t. Because having to discuss a sex scene in Cas’ class might’ve killed him. Dean smiled, thinking about Cas. 

He moved on to read a book the class had already studied. But before he got past the first chapter, there was a commotion downstairs. There was shouting. Dean froze when he recognised the voice.

Anna burst into his room, looking like she was about to cry. “My dad?” Dean asked, his throat burning. Anna nodded. Dean grabbed the Impala keys from the table next to the bed and then left the apartment. There’s only one reason he would be here. For the car. Not for his sons.

Dean walked carefully down the stairs and appeared in the diner. John stopped yelling when he saw Dean, shame filling his eyes as he glanced over Dean’s injuries. “Here.” Dean choked, throwing the Impala’s keys at his - at John. They hit John on the shoulder, it should’ve been an easy catch, but John couldn’t move. He was sober now. He realised exactly what he did. He stooped to pick them up, and then returned his gaze to Dean’s face. “Get the fuck out. Do your job and leave. Don’t come back.” Dean said.   
“Sam?” John said finally.  
“No. Sam’s staying with me. Do your job and then leave town.” Dean said with finality. John nodded like he knew it was coming. Maybe he did. Maybe he woke up this morning and realised he had gone to far. But maybe his subconscious did it on purpose. He’d been looking for a way to ditch the boys for a while now. Taking Dean on less hunts, leaving him in the motel room with Sam. Not bothering to continue Sam’s shooting and driving lessons. 

And then John walked out. He didn’t look back. Dean allowed himself to sever the ties he had, and he walked back up to Gabe’s apartment. He heard the Impala turn over, listened to her purr, and then heard John drive off. Dean exhaled. He fell asleep on the couch.

Sam shook him awake. Cas was standing over him with a worried look on his face. “Are you okay?” Sam asked as Dean’s eyes peeled open. Dean nodded and pulled Sam into a hug. Sam protested. “I’ll hurt you.” But Dean pulled him in tighter, not caring. “Dad was here?” Sam asked.  
“Yes.”  
“And he took the car?”  
“Yes.”  
“What’s going to happen now Dean?”  
“He’ll do the job. And then he’ll leave.”  
“Without us?” Sam asked and Dean nodded. “Where are we gonna go?”  
“I don’t know.” Dean let go of Sam.  
“You can stay with me.” Cas said. Dean looked up, shocked. “I have a three bedroomed house not to far away. You can stay with me.”  
“Can we Dean?” Sam asked.  
“I guess. Thanks Cas.”  
“Do you feel up to walking to the diner across the road for lunch?” Cas asked, Dean nodded. He got up and went to grab a shirt. He didn’t have anything that would cover up all of his bruises, and decided he didn’t give a shit. Dean pulled a Metallica shirt over his head, cringing when it stuck to his back.   
“A little help?” He called out, thinking that Sam would run over to him. But it was Cas who helped him out. Unfamiliar hands ran down the skin on his back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Cas pulled the shirt down gently and then stepped back.  
“We should go. Sam and I have to be back before afternoon classes.”  
“Sure.” Dean’s cheeks were burning as the three left Gabe’s apartment. 

The diner was almost completely full, but apparently someone recognised Cas and so they got a table quickly. “A former student.” He explained. The food was really good, but not good enough to make Dean not notice all the looks he was getting. He knew he looked hideous with the bruises, but people didn’t have to stare. He huffed into his burger.  
“Hey, Cas?” He looked up suddenly.  
“Yes?” Cas looked just as surprised as Dean for the sudden start in conversation.  
“How mad would you be if I told you I want to drop out of school?”  
“Upset, definitely. But not mad. Never mad.” Cas stared intensely like he was trying to convince Dean that he would never be mad. “Is that something you want to do?”  
“Yes. I’ve got less than a year left, but it’s jarring. Moving around. Sam needs school. He’s smart.” He turned to look at his younger brother who was trying to suck down a pint glass of milkshake, and Dean smiled. “He’s gonna make something of himself. But me? I’ll find a job. School’s not my speed.”  
“I understand. Perhaps you could help Gabriel?”  
“I thought you said no one wants to work for him.”  
“Only because he’s a hypocrite. I’m sure he’d let you and Sam have at the desserts that were going to be thrown away.”  
“That sounds good.” He meant it. All Dean wanted now was stability and a home. And it seemed like he had that. “So you’re really okay with me dropping out?”  
“I don’t like it. I’m a teacher Dean, but under these circumstances I’m okay with it. If you come back to the school with me and Sam, you can retract your transfer papers and fill out the required forms.”  
“What would I do to kill time until four o’clock?”  
“I have an office. Or you could walk back to Gabriel’s. Or have a look around town.”  
“Yeah. Okay.” And that was that. Dean allowed his mouth to upturn at the prospect of a future. He was carving a future for him and Sammy.


	2. Dean's not as fine as he makes everyone think

The drive back to the school seemed to take forever. Dean scratched nervously at his neck, looking between his little brother sitting in the back and the scene outside the window. But eventually Cas pulled up in a spot outside the English building. Sam hopped out of the car, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Thanks for lunch Cas. See you later Dean.” Sam rushed out, disappearing into the throng of students who were walking to class. Dean turned to Cas.  
“I’ll see you when I’ve filled out the paperwork.”  
“My office is within my classroom. I’m sure you remember how to find it?”  
“Yeah.” Dean nodded and ambled to the reception.

Before he got there, however, a hand gripped his shoulder. Dean whipped round, coming face to face with a brunette girl wearing all black. She was sporting a smirk as she looked at Dean up and down. He suddenly felt self-conscious but refrained from breaking eye contact. “I’m Meg, and you’re Dean.” She said.  
“How do you know my name?”  
“Baby, I know everyone’s names.” Meg lifted her arm and trailed soft fingers over Dean’s throat. “You got a kinky side, Dean? Cause I can get behind breath play.”  
“Breath play?”  
“Yeah, you know, erotic asphyxiation?”  
“Oh.” Dean was disgusted. But not wholly. He understood the appeal, the euphoria he experienced right as the world slipped away.  
“Anyway, if you get bored fucking Mr Novak, be sure to give me a call.” Meg winked at him and then walked off. Dean swallowed. And then he made his way to the reception desk.

“Dean. How can I help?” The receptionist looked up at him, smiling.  
“I… uh. I need the forms to drop out.”  
“But honey, you just got here.” Dean watched her gaze slip from his eyes to his neck. Dean blushed slightly and looked down at the floor. “I’ll just grab you those forms.” She stood, giving him a pitying look and left. Dean wondered if he should’ve gone to the hospital just to get bandaged up. Maybe then people would stop staring.

The receptionist came back, sliding papers across the counter to Dean. He looked down, realising that it wouldn’t be as simple as signing at the bottom he sighed. He grabbed a pen and began to write an explanation for dropping out that would be both truthful and accepted. He ended up writing ‘I need to start working full time so that I can support me and my younger brother’ because writing ‘My dad almost killed me so I told him to fuck off and leave me and my brother in the care of the hot English teacher I have a crush on and honestly I couldn’t give a fuck about finishing school.’ wouldn’t have gone down well.

Dean finished up and handed it back to the receptionist. She looked like she wanted to say something but decided against it at the last moment, closing her mouth. Dean wandered slowly to Cas’ classroom. Class had started and there were no students walking the halls, but Dean started to panic because he would have to walk through a full class to get to Cas’ office. When he got to the door, he stared at it. Was he supposed to knock? Or was he supposed to be as quiet as possible? He chose the latter and opened the door.

Only a few heads turned his way, but they were younger than him, so their faces turned to confusion. Cas stopped talking and smiled a little at Dean. He indicated the door on the other side of his desk and then continued his lecture. Dean shut the door behind him and stepped behind Cas, moving quickly into the office. More heads turned as he appeared in view, but he shrugged it off.

Cas’ office was nice. It was filled with books and Dean wondered if his house was also filled with books. There was another desk, but this one was covered in piles of student’s work. It had a computer sitting on it. And Dean noticed that there was a post it note stuck to the monitor. ‘Dean, feel free to use the computer. I’ll come in to check on you between lessons. Cas.’ It read. Dean smiled.

The rest of the office was filled with a rather comfortable looking couch. He let out a yawn. A nap would be a pretty good time waster, Dean thought. There was a thick brushed cotton plaid blanket folded over the back. Dean grabbed it as he lowered himself carefully onto the couch, and then he pulled the soft material over himself. It registered in his brain, as he moved the blanket closer to himself, that it vaguely smelt like Cas. He closed his eyes, barely hearing the excited lecture from the other side of the wall, but allowed it to follow him into unconsciousness. 

Cas came in to check on Dean as promised during the few minutes reprieve between classes. He smiled when he saw the boy sleeping on the couch. 

Cas shook Dean awake after his last class finished. “Sam’ll be here in a minute.” Cas said.  
“Is it four already?” Dean sat up, still hugging the blanket to him.  
“Yes. I thought we’d go back to Gabe’s Place to pack up your things and then I could show you my home.”  
“Sounds good.” Dean nodded.  
“Mr Novak?” A voice called from the other room. Cas opened his office door and poked his head out to see who was there.  
“Meg, what can I do for you?” Cas straightened, dropping the smile, but he didn’t become mean. He turned into Mr Novak. And that’s when Dean realised that he was a different person altogether with Dean. The corners of Dean’s mouth turned upwards as he felt special.  
“I was really hoping that you might reconsider tutoring me outside of class. You know my parents would pay you well. I just feel like I need all the extra attention I can get.” Dean couldn’t see her, but he heard enough to know her words were dripping with innuendo.  
“I gave you a list of respectable tutors for English last week, I’m sorry I just don’t have the time with the marking and teaching and helping at Gabe’s Place.”  
“That’s a real shame. There’s no one who teaches better than you.”  
“I’m sorry Meg.”  
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
“Goodbye.” Cas pulled back from the door, turning to Dean. “I’m not entirely sure her motives are pure.” He said. And if Dean was drinking something he would’ve spat it out. “There was a teacher a few months ago that gave in to her constant pleading to be tutored. He was fired for misconduct with a student.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Yes.” Cas thought for a moment. Dean really wanted to know what he was thinking about. But the moment disappeared when Sam ran in. “Ready to go?” Cas asked. Sam nodded and Dean stood, beginning to fold the blanket. He gave the couch a last look and then followed Sam and Cas out to the parking lot. 

Dean didn’t notice before, but Cas’ car was pretty nondescript. It was black and vaguely car-shaped. It ran, but it didn’t purr like the Impala did. For the first time Dean began to miss the car. But then his stomach began to throb and he thought he was better without the Impala or it’s aggressive driver.

Sam was avidly describing his day from the passenger side, Dean took the back this time. Out of the window, Dean watched groups of students filtering out onto the street, some crossing between the standstill off cars.

The parking spaces outside Gabe’s Place were all full, so Cas drove round the back and parked next to the kitchen door.

Anna was in the kitchen as they walked in, pulling a tray of muffins out of the oven. “Hello Castiel. Sam, Dean.” She turned her head. Sam stifled a laugh at the swipe of flour on Anna’s cheek. Cas smiled at Sam fondly.  
“Those smell good.” Cas told his younger sister.  
“Gabe wanted me to experiment somewhat. Try one?” Anna passed a muffin to Cas.  
“What’s in it?” He looked at it, eyes narrowing. Anna’s experiments with baking were always a little odd.  
“Banana, honey, cashews with chocolate frosting.”  
“Chocolate frosting?” There was no frosting.  
“Well, not yet. They just came out of the oven.”  
“I think I’d rather try it now.” Cas took a bite. The cake was warm but it was the best combination Anna had ever made. “Forgo the frosting. They’re perfect.”  
“If you’re sure?”  
“Definitely.” Cas took another bite, making Anna’s face light up.  
“Would you like to try some?” She asked Sam and Dean. Both boys nodded and Anna held the tray closer to them. They each took a muffin. Sam moaned happily and Dean’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as he did.

When they finished, Anna disappeared to display the warm muffins and Castiel led the boys upstairs. “Pack up your stuff and I’ll take you both home.” Cas said.

Dean walked into the guest room and collected his things, shoving them into the duffel bag that sat in the room. He glanced at Sam who was hovering in the doorway. “What’s the matter?” Dean asked.  
“Nothing.” Sam said unconvincingly.  
“Sammy…”  
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”  
“What?”  
“Staying with Cas. You can’t sleep with him Dean. He’s the only thing between us sleeping on the streets now.”  
“I know. It won’t be a problem.”  
“Okay.” Sam nodded, hearing the sincerity in Dean’s voice. They joined Cas when all of their stuff was packed up.  
“Did you pack the books I left for you Dean?” Cas asked, startling Dean.  
“Yes.” He coughed, repeating himself when he realised Cas didn’t hear him the first time.  
“We should leave before Gabriel wraps me up in an apron and holds me hostage for a shift.” Cas said. If Dean was drinking something, he would’ve spit it out at Cas’ attempt to make a joke. But instead, the Winchester brothers followed Castiel back out to the car, with a duffel bag over each brothers’ shoulder. 

Castiel stopped the car on a paved driveway that led up to a huge house. Despite it’s size, it looked like it had seen better days; peeling paint, grass in the gutter and smudged windows to name a few cosmetic problems. But it was still mighty impressive to the two boys who hadn’t ever had a home.

The three stepped out of the car. Sam looked up at the house in wonder while Dean shifted awkwardly on the driveway, not sure whether to go ahead or hand back with Sammy. But he wasn’t standing awkwardly for too long because Castiel turned to look at his new charges. “I don’t have a lot of time to tend to the house.” He said, embarrassed.  
“It’s amazing.” Sam said, head still tilted upwards. Dean noticed that Cas’ cheeks pinked. Castiel began to walk towards the house and the boys followed. 

The inside looked better kept than the outside. Cas lead them up the stairs. “This is my room.” He indicated the first door but continued to walk. “A bathroom. And your rooms.” He said as he walked past two doors to stop at the third. “This one is a little bigger but the other one has a bookcase.”  
“Dibs.” Sam smiled. Dean nodded and opened the door the three were hovering by. Sam opened the door next to it and stepped in.  
“I’ll leave you both to unpack.” Castiel said, turning to walk down the hall and down the stairs.

Dean looked round his new room, exploring the huge space that was now his. The last time he had his own room, his mum was still alive.

He peered out the giant window, smiling when the view was of a suburban ‘American Dream’ style house across the street, white picket fence and all. Picking up the duffel bag, Dean started to unload it into the empty chest of drawers in the room. 

Satisfied, he made his way back down the stairs to find Cas. Dean laughed when he saw him because Cas was fast asleep, drooling over a stack of English papers at the dining table. The noise startled him awake though. “Huh?” He said blearily.  
“Dude, you fell asleep. I know English can be boring sometimes, my last teacher total snooze fest, but I never expected it to make you fall asleep.” Dean was laughing softly.  
“Perhaps I am more tired than I anticipated.” Cas stretched his limbs, a few of the joints popping. “It might be better if we order take out tonight. I think I would be a hazard in the kitchen right now.”  
“That’s cool. What do you fancy?”  
“I’m not fussy. There’s a drawer of menus in the kitchen, pick one and write down what you want.” Cas instructed, shuffling the English papers into neater piles.  
“Sure.” Dean headed through an archway into a huge kitchen. And all he could think was ‘this would be an awesome kitchen to bake in’. Dean didn’t often bake, rarely did they have the accommodation for it. But he was damn good at it. And he was actually really hoping that Gabe would give him a job.

The drawer of menus was so full that it wouldn’t open at first, but Dean shoved his hand in, pushing the pamphlets down. He pulled them all out and scattered them across the countertops, skimming across the various cuisines. It was surprising for such a small town to have that many places open, but Dean quickly realised that some of the menus were for the same place, and others had shut down to be replaced by restaurants that were on the newer menus.

After looking through all the menus, studying them for a while, Sam strolled in. “Hey Sammy, we’re ordering in tonight. What d’ya feel like?” Dean smiled.  
“Chicken?”  
“Come on, be specific. All of these places do chicken… see. Kung pao chicken, chicken piccata, chicken tikka masala, barbecue chicken pizza. Need I go on?”  
“No, I get it. Pass me the” Sam paused. “Chinese menu.” Dean separated two menus from what appeared to be rival Chinese restaurants that were both very much still in operation. He turned to look for some paper or post its, but couldn’t find any so was forced to go looking for Cas. 

The English papers had disappeared by now, and Castiel was sitting on the couch staring at the blank TV with an earbud in. “Hey Cas…” Dean was unsure now. Headphones generally means ‘don’t bother me’, but at his words, Cas paused what he was listening to and turned to face Dean. “I was looking for post it notes or paper I can write down the order on.”  
“Ah yes, there’s a stack of post it notes next to the landline.” Cas pointed to the end table next to the TV that was still turned off.  
“Thanks.” Dean took one and grabbed the pen that was sitting next to them. “What are you listening to?” He asked after a moment.  
“Well… see a teacher never stops being a teacher. There’s always more to learn, especially with English. There’s more books, more opinions and more words to find.”  
“Okay.” That made sense.  
“I am listening to a lecture on the religious influences of Shakespeare’s Hamlet.” Cas said, embarrassed.  
“Oh yeah? Is it at least interesting?” Dean asked.  
“Very.” Cas blushed.  
“Good.” Dean nodded once and then turned to head back to the kitchen. Cas smiled, putting the earbud back in and pressing play. “You know what you want?” He asked Sam.  
“Yeah.” And then Dean passed Sam the post it note and pen while he peered over his younger brother’s shoulder to see what he wanted.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Castiel was exhausted and Sam had a bunch of homework he needed to do. Dean, however, was bored. He had walked through the house at least three times, and because of his nap earlier he was wide awake.

He was more than surprised when on his fourth circuit, he stumbled across a door that he hadn’t seen before. It was partially hidden by a large bookcase, but it opened outwards so Dean just pushed on it. The door swung open to a hoarder’s paradise. When he flicked the light on, Dean squeaked in surprise at what he saw.

Boxes of old newspapers, antiques and mysterious objects were all stacked up. He was in the garage, it seemed, because the entire left wall was a large metal garage door. Dean stepped in as far as he could, which wasn’t far because a cardboard box of baseball cards was in his way. There was so much junk he couldn’t see the opposite wall. And Dean would guess that very little of this was actually Cas’. He had a neat house where this was chaotic, and most of it looked older than he was.

As Dean turned his head to start going back into the main house, something red sparkled at him. It completely contrasted the dull neutral tones of everything else in the room, so Dean leant as close to it as he could and pulled up the sheet covering it. There were even more boxes stacked on top of the sheet, pinning it down. But from what Dean could see, there was a freaking cherry red classic car under all the junk in the garage. Excitement bubbled up in Dean. “CAS!” He yelled out, a wide smile forming on his face.

Castiel appeared rather quickly. “Ah. You’ve found the garage.”  
“Yeah,” Dean beamed at him.  
“Why are you so happy? Just thinking about this room gives me a migraine. It’s why I covered most of the door with a bookcase.”  
“Yeah, it’s bad. But there’s a car. Did you know that? You have a car in here!”  
“I do?”  
“Yeah dude, look.” Dean pulled up the sheet again, revealing a wheel and the shiny red metal.  
“Wait… is that a Stingray?”  
“Maybe. I can’t see enough of it to judge.”  
“The man I bought this house from told me that I’d better take care of his Stingray. I wasn’t sure what he meant, at the time I thought maybe he was referring to a model of the fish in here. I had no idea it was a car.” Dean started full on belly laughing then. Cas bought a car and never knew it. When he stopped, Dean stroked the car’s paintwork. She looked to be in fair condition, nothing he couldn’t fix.  
“I’d uh… I’d really like to fix her up. You know? Maybe organise all this stuff,” He waved an arm around the room. “and see if she runs. I’ll get a job. Pay for everything. I’d love the opportunity to work on such a beaut.”  
“I think that’s a fair way to spend your time. Don’t bother organising this crap, just throw it out. I doubt anything in here is worth any money.” Castiel thought for a minute. “Or if you wanted to organise the antiques, you could sell them online for money to spend on the car.”  
“Yeah?” Dean looked at Cas with wonder in his eyes.  
“Of course Dean.”  
“Thanks Cas.” Dean said and Cas nodded. He left, heading up to bed, while Dean stood in the garage looking at the mountain of work he had just given himself. But he couldn’t help but smile.

He tried to sleep that night. He really did. Dean spent three hours in bed, two of which he was asleep for. But he couldn’t peel his mind from the car that he had fallen in love with despite not having seen more than five percent of it.

So at two in the morning, Dean got up and splashed cold water on his face. He changed into an old Pink Floyd shirt and tattered sweatpants and then headed for the kitchen quietly with his cassette player and headphones. To go into battle with the amount of crap in that garage, he would need supplies. Dean grabbed a roll of black bin bags, a bottle of water and a pack of tissues. And then he pushed the garage door open again, flicking the light on.

It almost seemed worse than earlier, like the junk had procreated while he wasn’t watching. He dropped the water and tissues by the door and then slid his headphones on, pressing play on the ACDC tape. 

As the bells began signalling the start of ‘Hells Bells’, Dean pulled a box of old newspapers off of the car. He got to work sorting junk from possibly-worth-money-junk.

He was about halfway through when he heard movement behind him. Dean spun around. Sam was smirking at him from the doorway. “What’re you doing?”  
“I made a deal with Cas.” Sam narrowed his eyes at this.  
“What kind of deal?”  
“I’m sorting out the garage and in return I get to fix up this sweet ride.” Dean took a breath and then pulled the sheet of the car. He had refrained from looking at it yet, but with the progress he had made so far, he figured he deserved a treat.

Dean’s jaw dropped as he took in the sight of what was unmistakably a cherry red 1963 Corvette Stingray. He started salivating at the prospect of fixing her up. “Wow.” Sam said.  
“Yeah.”  
“And this is Cas’?”  
“Apparently.” Dean nodded. “It came with the house but he had no idea until last night.” Dean couldn’t peel his eyes from the curvy red beauty. She was all sport and not at all practical. But Dean glided his hand across her body. “You sure are somethin’ special.” He said under his breath. Sam caught it though and huffed, leaving to get something to eat probably.

After a little while, Dean covered her back up, not wanting to get distracted and wanting to preserve her from any more dust. He went back to sorting through the rest of the stuff in the garage. 

Later, Cas and Sam made their way to see Dean to say goodbye, they were heading to school. “Your bruises look better.” Cas said after Sam had run off to wait by the car.  
“No they don’t.” Dean responded.  
“Okay, fine. They don’t. But you shouldn’t feel like you have to hide them in this house Dean. You should feel comfortable to wear what you want.” As Cas talked, Dean realised that the Pink Floyd shirt was one of his only long sleeved tops and it had a higher neckline than he was used to. He didn’t do it on purpose, though maybe it was a subconscious act to cover the bruises.  
“Sure Cas.” Castiel smiled a little and left. Dean heard the soft rumble of Cas’ car and then he was alone.

Now he thought about it, Dean was really hot. All the heavy lifting had made him sweaty, and if Cas didn’t care what he wore, Dean was going to be comfortable. He pulled the shirt off, baring his chest to the garage. Throwing the shirt out into the living room, aiming for the couch, Dean got back to work. Hopefully he would be able to finish up and get to checking out the car before he has to stop for lunch. It’s a crime that she’s been neglected for this long already. He shouldn’t make her wait too much longer.

He got his wish. Dean looked over the now very organised piles of junk. Most of it was in a heap to the left of him. That stuff was going straight in the trash bins. But there was a fairly substantial pile on his right; stuff Dean thought might possibly be worth money. The room looked practically bare, it was a little disturbing.

Dean tugged at the sheet covering the car. He whistled low at the sight. It was a piece of history. Dean imagined the person who owned the car first, maybe it was a stuffy accountant who was going through a mid-life crisis, or a wide-eyed teenager who wrecked it in the first week. But now it was all his to work on. Well, all Cas’. But Dean had free reign to fix her up.

He started by opening her up. It was better than he would’ve hoped, but she still needed quite a bit of work. And it was a coin toss whether she would start or not. Dean climbed into the driver’s seat and found the key hanging from the ignition. He turned it. She coughed and spluttered, but eventually she started up. Dean stroked the dashboard.

She wasn’t Baby, that’s for sure. But she was pretty neat.

Dean was pulled from his thoughts by the front door slamming loudly. Huh. He was out here for longer than he thought. And he missed lunch. Dean checked his phone, seeing that it was only just noon. He screwed up his face. Maybe Cas comes home for lunch and forgot to say anything.

He snuck out of the garage, just in case it was a burglar. And then Dean grabbed the only thing he could see working as a weapon; a super heavy cookie jar that was shaped and painted like a house. Dean had laughed at it when he found it earlier. But now it was protecting him, so he wasn’t going to laugh. Not right now anyway.

“Dean-o?” It was Gabriel. Dean exhaled and lowered the cookie jar house from it’s position over his head, ready to sacrifice itself so Dean could daze the burglar who was nothing but the local Willie Wonka.  
“Gabe. What’re you doing here?” He asked, placing the jar down carefully.  
“I came to see you.” He said and then smirked. “It’s not a very ominous weapon, is it?”  
“Shut up.” Dean blushed.  
“Yeah, okay. So Cassie told me that you might be interested in a job. No pressure, but I really need help. Anna’s always at school and so is Cassie. I’ve got someone that helps out during the day, but I’m like eighty-five percent sure he spends all day eating cake.”  
“I’d love to work at Gabe’s Place.”  
“Yeah?” Gabe asked as if he didn’t believe Dean.  
“Yeah. I was actually planning on coming by to beg you for a job tomorrow.”  
“Great. Can you bake? Or will you be like Cassie, standing in the front looking pretty?”  
“Wha- I can bake.” Dean nodded firmly when he got over the weird complement Gabe had given him.  
“I’d like to see that for myself. You don’t really look like you bake.”  
“That’s fair, but I’m a good baker, just don’t get to do it a lot. Maybe I could make you something now. Depending on what Cas keeps in his cupboards, that is.”  
“Ah Dean-o I’d love to stay and eat baked goods for you, but this is my lunch break and it’s almost over. If you’re not doing anything you could come back with me and make me something at My Place.”  
“That sounds great. I just gotta take a shower and put on some clothes that aren’t covered in dust mites from the sixties.” Gabe nodded and Dean took that as permission to leave him alone while he went upstairs. He took long strides, not wanting to get Gabe in trouble with his boss. But then he calmed down when he realised that Gabe was Gabe’s boss.

Nevertheless, Dean’s shower was quick, it’s only purpose today was to clean him. None of the more pleasurable shower activities took place. Dean lingered when deciding what to wear, but then said ‘fuck it’ and chose his favourite Led Zeppelin top that showed all of his neck and most of his collar bone too. And he slipped into soft frayed and torn jeans.

Gabe was splayed out on the couch, playing something on his phone. Candy Crush. Dean sniggered. “Ready to go eyelashes?”  
“Eyelashes?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Okay.” Dean followed Gabriel to his monstrosity of a Nissan Micra. “What the fuck is this?”  
“It’s my car. Get in.” Gabe dropped into the seat and pulled the door shut behind him.  
“This isn’t a normal person car… it’s a toy car.” He spluttered. “Like a freaking thing that kids push around and pretend to crash.” Gabe didn’t say anything, just waited for Dean to get in and then drove them both to his dessert place.  
“Hey Kevin.” Gabe said to the small Asian kid behind the counter. Kevin’s eyes went directly to Dean’s bruises and it looked like he was about to cry. “Kevin works here during the day and takes night classes at the university.” He said to Dean. “Follow me, Dean-o.” They both walked into the huge kitchen.  
“I still can’t get over this kitchen man.”  
“What? You have a kitchen fetish or something?”  
“No, but it’s a real nice kitchen.” Dean was smiling.  
“I’ll take your word for it.”  
“What do you want me to make you?” Dean asked, still staring at the sparkling countertops.  
“Whatever you make best. I’ll be up front. Come find me when you’re done.”  
“That’s it? You’re not gonna stare over my shoulder or watch to see if I eat your food?”  
“Nope.” Gabe turned to leave.  
“Okay then.” 

Before he started, Dean took another look around. He picked up an apron from the pegs and tied it around his waist. He smirked when he saw what was on it ‘They see me rollin’ they hatin’ ‘ was printed on it, surrounding a rolling pin. Dean opened up the fridge and decided that he really wanted to impress Gabriel. He did inventory and realised that there was way too much food and he had free reign to bake whatever the hell he wanted. It was paradise.

Dean settled on a pumpkin pie because it was cold today and Dean remembered his mum making pumpkin pie when it was cold. He followed the recipe she created to the letter, having memorised it before she died. 

He handmade some whipped cream and opened a tub of French vanilla ice cream. The pie came out of the oven beautifully. The smells alone had Dean drooling. He cut a piece for Gabe, another for Kevin, and a smaller piece for himself and then served them on small plates with dollops of whipped cream on top and a scoop of ice cream. The pie was better hot, so Dean took the plates straight out to Gabe. “Ah, the wizard returns.” He handed Gabe the most generous portion and then passed a plate to Kevin who looked confused but then very happy. “Pumpkin pie, I didn’t know I wanted it until just now.” 

And then Gabe took a huge bite. Dean held his breath.

No one said anything until after they had finished eating. “This is fucking delicious. I don’t think I’ve had better pumpkin pie. Hell, I haven’t had better pie. Kevin, thoughts?” Gabe said and Dean exhaled.  
“Can I get some more?” Kevin said. Both Dean and Gabriel nodded, and Kevin shuffled into the kitchen with his plate.  
“I don’t think I can say it any better. You’re hired, if that wasn’t obvious before.”  
“Wow, thank you. Thanks Gabe.”  
“You make pies like that, I’d be a fool not to hire you. Get back in that kitchen, you start now. The school rush will start in just under an hour so you’d better get started on cupcakes. At least two dozen.”  
“Yessir.” Dean was still smiling as he walked out the back. He saw Kevin who was stuffing pie into his mouth.  
“’S good.” He said.  
“Thanks.” Dean began to prepare for the school rush. He settled on uncomplicated; a dozen chocolate cupcakes with chocolate frosting and a dozen plain sponge with raspberry frosting.

After he put the cupcakes in the oven, Dean whizzed around the room, cleaning up after himself. He wanted to show Gabe that he was deserving of the job, Dean would never take it for granted. 

Kevin ducked his head around the corner. “We’ve only got a few minutes until we’re packed, you got anything I can put out yet?”  
“I’m just finishing up. I’ll bring them out when they’re done.”  
“Cool, thanks Dean.” His head disappeared. Dean piped the frosting on the cakes in neat swirls. He was tempted to add something extra on the top, but there wasn’t anything he could find. He hit the right time, coming out of the kitchen with the cupcakes right as a gaggle of school kids ran in. He arranged the cakes in the transparent display case and then watched as they proceeded to be bought by the kids.

Dean didn’t go back to the kitchen because it looked like Kevin needed an extra hand. So he used the plastic tongs to plate up or bag the cakes while Kevin dealt with the money. 

Gabe appeared out of nowhere once the place had settled down. He peered at the crumbs in the display; the only evidence that they sold cake. “You’d better get back in the kitchen. Make the quickest thing you know how because we’re due for the second wave in half an hour. Kevin, grab the rest of the pumpkin pie and display it. We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”  
“Roger roger.” Dean saluted Gabe who laughed, and then he headed back to the kitchen.

He got to work mixing brownie batter and poured it into a tray as quick as he could. And then he had an idea. He was going to make chocolate chip cookies. Dean hadn’t made cookies in a few years but he thought he could still remember how.

Dean was falling over he was so exhausted by the time Cas and Sam came by. Apparently Gabe had texted them to collect him after school. “Is that mum’s pumpkin pie?” Dean heard and he knew it was Sam. He ran out of the kitchen, smiling wide at his younger brother.  
“Sure is kid.” He nodded.  
“Can I get a piece of that Cas?” Sam asked.  
“Of course Sam.” Cas nodded seriously, gesturing Dean to cut a slice. Dean did and then passed it over while Cas paid Kevin.  
“You made it with the right spices this time, right?” Sam asked nervously.  
“It was one time Sammy.” Dean hated when Sam brought that up.  
“I’ve got to hear this.” Gabe practically materialised when he thought he was going to get to hear dirt on Dean.  
“For Thanksgiving one year, Dean made pumpkin pie, ‘cept instead of nutmeg and cinnamon, he put in saffron and chilli powder. It was really hot and didn’t taste good.” Sam laughed with Gabriel.  
“It was a mistake. I picked up the wrong spices, but I promise this one tastes perfect.” Dean said. Sam passionately agreed when he began to eat.

They all hung around for a little while, until Gabe ushered them out. “Come by for ten tomorrow Dean.”  
“Ten? Don’t you need me in to bake?”  
“You think you’re ready for the battle that is baking before we open?”  
“Dude yes.”  
“Okay. Cassie, bring him over on your way to school. Come caffeinated kid.”  
“See you tomorrow Gabe, bushy tail an’ all.” The three walked out and climbed into Cas’ car.

Dean couldn’t help but smile at everything. Since when was he so goddamn happy? Dean Winchester didn’t do happy. But apparently now he did. His dad was gone, he baked today, he would be baking tomorrow, Sam was healthy, there was a semi-permanent roof over their head, and he had a pet project in the garage. Life was good for once.

But then he went and said it to Sam at dinner. He said it. Tempted fate. And now life has turned around and said ‘You know what, screw you Dean Winchester’. 

When Dean went to bed, he fell to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, exhausted from both the lack of sleep the night before and the amount of work he had done during the day. It was a dreamless sleep in the sense that what he was seeing as he was unconscious were not dreams, they were memories; nightmares.

Dean was walking through a bar, Sam was back at the motel and John was wherever the fuck he was. Not here and not at the motel. Dean was about to slide onto a bar stool when he saw some guy eyeballing him. It wasn’t the ‘you’re too young to be out on your own at a bar in a strange town’ look, it was the ‘I really want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours’ look. Dean swallowed thickly. The man took a step towards Dean. Even though they were on opposite sides of the bar, Dean’s hair prickled at the back of his neck and he stumbled backwards.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He just really needed a break from his younger brother’s whining, so he came out to the bar he knew was down the street so that he could grab a coke in peace.

The man, a tall guy with a tattoo under his jaw, took another large step towards Dean, eyes never leaving their target. Their prey. Dean pushed past a couple and a few singles to get to the door he had just walked through. He got through the crowd pretty quickly, being stick thin.

And the cold air hit his skin. He didn’t realise how uncomfortably warm the bar was until he was out of it. Dean began to walk through the parking lot, heading back to the motel. He would be drinking luke warm tap water instead of the ice cold sweetness of coke tonight.

Just as Dean was sidling between two cars, a hand grabbed his arm. He tried to pull back but all that happened was his arm popped out of the socket. Dean whimpered. The man from the bar was standing over him, leering at him with a tight grip on the limp arm. “Please. I just wanna go home.” Dean screamed as the man pushed him down onto the gravel, pressing a knee on his chest so he wouldn’t move while he tugged his jeans down. Dean stared at the man’s cock, erect and dripping.  
“Was watchin’ you Pretty. Was thinkin’ all about yer pretty pink lips round my cock, thick n’ heavy just for you. Want you to take it all, swallow me down.” And then the guy kneeled on the gravel and pulled Dean’s upper body off the floor, one hand behind Dean’s head. Dean strained against the hand, but it was stronger. 

The man forced Dean’s mouth around his cock, and then he fucked into it with his hips and pushing on Dean’s head. Dean choked and spluttered but the man was too strong. It took far too long; the smell of sweat and sex permeating Dean’s nose and his clothes. The man came with a yell, warm ropes of come dripping down Dean’s throat. The man pulled back and then held his free hand against Dean’s mouth. “Swallow.” He commanded, not letting Dean breathe. Dean did and he felt dirty and used up afterwards. “Good girl.” Dean narrowed his eyes at the man, was he really that drunk or was it a fantasy. The stable hands and unwavering eyes told him it was the latter. 

He pulled up his jeans and let Dean take off, throwing ten dollars at the boy. Dean didn’t want to pick it up, he really didn’t because then he would be a ten dollar whore. But he didn’t really have a choice, John hadn’t been by in a while and Sammy was running out of food. So Dean turned around and picked up the note from the gravel, and then he high-tailed it out of there. Straight to the motel.

Sam was already asleep, so Dean popped his shoulder back in place and took the longest shower of his life. He was only fourteen. 

Powerful hands were shaking his shoulders, yelling. Dean thought maybe he was going to relive some of his other low points. It turned out it was a whole new one when he was woken from his sleep to Cas staring down at him. 

Castiel was straddling him, a hand on each shoulder and he looked devastated. “Dean!” He yelled.  
“‘M awake.” Dean said quietly. He could feel tears on his cheeks.  
“What the hell was that?” Cas asked.  
“I get nightmares sometimes. Sorry.” Dean turned over so he was staring out of the window. He hadn’t pulled the curtains for this exact reason. The suburban view was too comforting.  
“Hey.” Cas said softly.  
“What?” There was no venom in Dean’s voice.  
“You were screaming.” Dean’s stomach dropped.  
“Was I?” He tried to play it cool.  
“Yes.”  
“What was I screaming?” Dean had to know if he would still be able to look Cas in the eye in the morning.  
“There was a lot of ‘No!’s and when I came in you were mumbling ‘I’m only fourteen’. You were crying.” Cas paused. “Dean are you okay?”  
“I’m fine Cas. Go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.” Cas seemed to realise that he wasn’t going to get anything out of Dean tonight, so he stood and vacated the room. But he left the door open a crack. Dean sighed and pulled the covers over his head, wanting nothing more than to forget that night and the ones after, and this one.


End file.
